Nita laughed a pleased little laugh, speaking of a tender affection for the absent ‘humbug.’ The course which the conversation had taken grew less and less pleasing to Jerome. He felt a strong desire to displace John from his pedestal, or at least to make him, in vulgar parlance, ‘step down a peg or two.’ A spirit of perverse folly took possession of him. Leaning a little forward, and speaking in a discreetly low voice, mindful of the groom who sat behind, he rested his elbow on his knee, and fixed his eyes on Nita’s face, saying:
‘Then he has never given you cause to suppose that a sister’s affection would hold a secondary place in his thoughts?’
‘You speak ambiguously,’ replied Nita, occupied in guiding her horses through a very narrow lane. ‘Sister’s affection—secondary place! I do not understand.’
‘Are sisters jealous when their brothers marry?’
‘Oh, I see! Certainly not, if they have any sense,’ was the most decided answer; ‘they may be angry, you know, if the wife their brother chooses is disliked by them; but if they have no ground for disliking her, they would be selfish and foolish, simply, to be jealous when their brothers married.’
‘You say John Leyburn is your cousin and your friend and your brother all in one. Suppose he took it into his head to get married—he must be lonely in that great house of his by the river.’
‘If John were to marry,’ repeated Nita, slowly and pensively.
Her hands were fully occupied; for at this moment they were driving down a steep hill, and the roans were fresh. She could not have hidden her face, had she wished to do so. As her eyes met Jerome’s, a quick flush rose on her cheek—a flush which grew deeper.
‘If she cares for him, there can be no danger in my asking questions; she is in no danger with me,’ thought Wellfield, with characteristic indolence, and also with a characteristic wish to find out whether she ‘cared’ irrevocably for John Leyburn. And he said:
‘If John were to marry—yes. What is to hinder him? Would his wife consider him your brother? Would she see it in the same light, do you think?’